Born Ready
by The Feisty Rogue
Summary: Arthur's supposed to be finding his soulmate, but he's tired of each day repeating again and again, trapping him in an endless loop of Thursdays.


_Soulmate AU - a specific day loops until you find your soulmate_

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 **Born Ready**

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Arthur woke up frowning. He lay in bed, listening to the bleeping of the alarm for a moment, before reaching over, ripping it from the wall and chucking at the door. It fell to the floor with a satisfying crash. Arthur rolled over, buried his head beneath the pillows, and tried to get back to sleep.

Perhaps he'd wake up and it would no longer be the miserable Thursday he'd been living on repeat. He didn't hold out much hope, however.

Half an hour later, his phoned buzzed. Without checking, Arthur knew that it was a text from Eames.

 _Good morning, darling!_

Usually, he ignored it. Today was meant to be the day he was destined to meet his soulmate; he didn't want to spend it answering text messages. Scientists still weren't sure why 'fate' or 'destiny' chose that one particular day for a person to relive, waking up the same morning again and again until they encountered their 'one true love'. The closest they'd come was an assumption that it meant a person had matured emotionally, and was in the right mind set to meet their soulmate, or some such rubbish.

Today was his fifty-third repeat. He'd still not had any damn luck actually meeting his soulmate, and honestly, he'd grown weary of it. After all, he'd keep on reliving these twenty-four hours until he found them, whoever they were. Frustratingly, it could be anyone – someone that Arthur knew intimately, or someone that he'd never met before.

Fifty-three times was a long time to live a day in which he ultimately achieved nothing.

Arthur yawned and curled the sheets around him further, stretching out one hand to snap up his phone. As he'd done every morning since realising that he was living his day on repeat, he bought a lottery ticket with the winning number and placed several bets. Was it truly gambling if he knew what the outcome would be? One day, he hoped, he'd break free from the loop, and when he did he planned on being wealthy.

Well, wealthier.

Frankly, he was surprised that more people didn't do this. Technically, it was illegal, but Arthur operated in quasi-legal territory at best.

Bets made, Arthur checked the news. It was exactly the same as yesterday and the fifty or so days before. There was a car bombing in Yemen, a missing painting in the Louvre, and yet another social media website was being thrown under the bus for using their member's data without their permission.

His phone buzzed again and Arthur bit back a smile. Undoubtedly it would be Eames, following up his initial greeting with the same picture he'd sent each morning; an image of the sea, the sun glinting off it, white sand and palms trees. An idyllic scene, not one unlike what Arthur saw when he looked out of the window of his hotel room. He tapped on the message and there they were, Eames' initial text and the following photo. Some things never changed.

He rolled out of bed and padded over to the desk, powering up his laptop. As the software loaded he placed a call down to room service, ordering coffee and French toast. He sipped coffee as he plugged in his phone, tracing Eames' number. Why the hell not?

Eames was close… suspiciously so. He was in St. Lucia, a pretty, if touristy Caribbean island. Arthur had holed up in the Dominican Republic, treating himself to a stay at Amanera. Perhaps it was a coincidence, perhaps not.

It was enough of an excuse for Arthur to charter himself a jet. He dressed for the weather in a pale linen suit and didn't bother packing a suitcase. Chances were, he'd wake up back exactly where he'd started the day. He did take a gun, tucked into a shoulder bag.

The journey to St. Lucia was dull, with five hours of flight time that Arthur killed reading through various crime novels he'd been gifted and picking holes in the plot. He bribed his way through security and caught a taxi up to Jade Mountain, the hotel Eames was staying in. It was a luxurious, five star resort; it seemed that Eames was treating himself as well.

Of course, Eames wasn't the room booked under one of his less obtrusive alibis. Arthur hadn't really expected him to be. He followed the path down to the beach, ignoring the honeymooning couples that seemed to be sprawled upon every flat surface.

There was Eames, one of the few lone travellers. He was basking in the sun, a mojito on a table next to him, headphones in his ears likely pumping out some dreadful pop music.

Arthur snorted and stood in Eames' sunlight, his face falling into shadow.

"Non, mesi*," Eames said without opening his eyes, his Creole accent perfect. "Mwen byen**."

"Hello Eames," Arthur replied, allowing amusement to lace the tone of his voice. "Nice to see you too."

Eames' eyes snapped open and he rolled off the sun lounger, sprawling into the sand in his shock.

"Arthur?" he hissed, rubbing at his eyes. He was dressed in navy swim shorts with little pink flamingos dotted about them. Ink curled across his chest and upper arms, a bead of sweat tracing the wing of a bird before dropping to the sand. He ran a hand through his hair, gaze darting about as if he expected Arthur to have brought an army with him.

"The one and only," Arthur said dryly.

Eames recovered himself, a wide grin slowly spreading across his face.

"Arthur, you little devil," he said. "Who'd have thought? Well, well, this is an unexpected change."

There was something wary in Eames' gaze that Arthur struggled to interpret. He tucked a hand into his pocket and shrugged.

"I was in the area, thought I'd drop by," he said.

"And how long have you been in the area?"

Arthur hesitated. He'd arrived so long ago, it seemed impossible to quantify. "Three days," he answered, but knew Eames had caught the lie.

They watched each other for a long moment. Eventually, Eames sat back down on the lounger, digging his toes into the sand.

"I've been here since last Friday." He looked up, gaze calculating. "But it feels like I've been here for months. Easy to lose track of time, in resorts like these."

Arthur felt his heart skip a beat. This was something he'd not considered, but what if Eames was the one he'd been looking for all along? He found he wasn't adverse to the idea at all.

Lazily sweeping Eames' body with his eyes, Arthur stepped forward so that he was standing just between Eames' knees. Eames swallowed, tilting his head back to look up at Arthur, hands planted on the seat behind him in order to keep his balance.

"I know exactly what you mean," he said. "In fact, every day seems to be exactly the same."

"Arthur," Eames murmured, so quietly the light breeze almost swept the sound of his voice away.

"Fifty-three days, Mr Eames," Arthur said, aiming for exasperated and coming up with fond. "Did you leave the resort once? It seems that I've been looking for you."

Eames smirked. "But I knew you'd find me, darling, if I just waited long enough." He reached up, settling his hands on Arthur's hips and tugged him forward, biceps flexing beneath golden skin.

Arthur allowed himself to tumble forward and knelt one leg on the lounger for balance.

"I'm fairly certain this is illegal, here," he said, settling his hands on Eames' broad shoulders, digging his fingers into the rippling muscles.

Eames grinned, gazing up at him with eyes that twinkled, a roguish quirk to his lips.

"And when has that ever bothered you, dear Arthur?" Eames said. Arthur leaned forward to silence him with a kiss, sighing softly in contentment. He suddenly wished he had brought a suitcase, because he was absolutely certain of one thing; it wasn't his bed he'd be waking in when the sun rose the next morning.

"We're going to have so much fun," Eames murmured, still talking even as he kissed, drawing Arthur closer. "I'm not sure the world is ready for us."

Perhaps the world wasn't ready, but Arthur was.

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 _Word count: 1355_

 _Romance Awareness Day 12 - a specific day loops until you find your soulmate_

 _Auction Day 2 - Headphones [Word Count: 1355 - Coins: 135]_

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* 'No thanks'

** 'I'm good'


End file.
